Doctor Who: BodySwap
by CultOfOwls
Summary: The Ninth and Tenth Doctors join forces to investigate a coastal town under the threat of an old enemy ready to invade the rest of the planet. Takes place between Journey's End and The Next Doctor.
1. Prologue

Doctor Who

BodySwap

Featuring The Ninth Doctor and Tenth Doctor

Written By Mark Lomas

**Prologue**

"_We are waiting for the long-promised invasion. So are the fishes" _–Winston Churchill

**The following takes place between Journey's End and The Next Doctor**

The night air was heavy with the threat of impending rain. The wind told the same story, blowing up sand off the beach and scattering it across the coast amid the night air. A small beacon of yellow light illuminating the cliffs and sea revealed the dominance of the Poseidon lighthouse, correctly named after the devastating sea god of ancient mythology.

Despite the gathering grey rain clouds and mist gathering in the stagnant air, she was, for the first time in a long time, at peace. The impending threat which had arrived at the preverbal gates had vanished into the rushing wind, and peace had been restored. There was nothing but mellow thoughts and peace and happiness in her mind. There was nothing but peace in coastal town of Littlerock Bay and the surrounding area.

Suddenly, something seemed to rip the very air from the sky as burning hot forks of danger injected into the mind of everyone in the town. Doors and windows burst open almost in unison as the rainclouds began to cry almost in sympathy. At first it was a light drizzle, but it soon picked up in pitch and velocity as danger seemed to crawl ever closer.

No one knew what the danger was, or what form it would ultimately take. Questioning glances and puzzled looks were exchanged as the streets began to fill with residents in various stages of bedtime undress. There were no words to describe what was hanging on the very air they breathed, but its intent was in no doubt.

Danger was looming and descending on the small town famous for rock candy and very little else save the lighthouse. Almost as if it could feel the sorrow soaking within the damp sand and even wilder waves, all power seemed to die as power died from within. The god Poseidon was angered for what was going to transpire.

The girl by the cliffs looked up into the rain and silently prayed, hoping that her voice would carry enough to reach the ears of those who could aid them. Their glorious and divine leaders, with the powers of a god and the touch of a fallen star. Blazing light appeared almost at once amid the waves below, as people began to descend to the beach.

On their knees in the damp sand, citizens of all ages prayed to gods they knew everything about and shared their protection. Shapes began to emerge from the swirling waves, which had gathered momentum as the danger had gotten closer. God-like voices spoke in angelic and almost alien tones, promising retribution and divine protection from the threat to their very well of life.

**-Doctor Who-**

In the very currents of the space time vortex, amid the fragmented moments of shattered timelines, a blue shape surfed as if guided by skilled hands. The blue box and magic and delight rocked backwards and forwards as it was buffeted by time winds, but it was soon shooting off again into time unknown. The last TARDIS; the last child of Gallifrey; the last of the Time Lords.

Inside the Time And Relative Dimensions In Space machine, all was quiet. The mellow glow of green bounced off and match perfectly with the coral design of the central console and adjoining struts. Atop the console, moving rhythmically up and down in time with the groans of the machine, the time column pushed itself through the folds of the space time continuum. It too was green, and cast long and distorted shadows across the mesh platform.

A blur of blue moved in motion around the central console, flicking and clicking buttons whose purposes were known only to its pilot. The Doctor, last of the Time Lords, moved around the console and picked up a hammer hanging off it and began banging in a mix of anger and enjoyment. A head of scruffy brown hair sat atop a thin face and frame dressed in a scruffy blue pinstripe suit finished off with red trainers. He usually wore a tie, but it sat discarded wrapped around a pull switch. He wore an open red shirt with a light gray t-shirt under his suit, which gave off a casual and somewhat scruffy appearance.

A loud groan emitted from the time column, and The Doctor glanced up from his work and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. When a second groan echoed in the cavernous control room, he was back at the controls and speaking to himself before he confused himself and banged his hammer on a panel of the console again.

"What's the matter with you, eh?" he asked, running his hand through his hair.

Pulling the display screen before him, he went into his suit pocket and produced a pair of dark tortoise-shell rectangle frame glasses and slipped them on, looking behind them with curiosity. The Gallifryan symbols for the planet, year and time-zone flashed before his eyes and the Doctor pulled a confused face.

"I could do with a little holiday" he replied to no-one, removing his glasses.

**-Doctor Who-**

He had arrived hours before and avoided any unwanted attention. The salty sea air had singed his nose and caused his ears to tingle, but there was something else lying heavy on his hearts. Everything was too quiet, too peace and too perfect. There was no sign of the usual Friday night trouble you found everywhere, no drunks puking outside pubs or teenagers spray painting. It was serene but odd in the same syllable.

The TARDIS had dropped him off a few miles along the coast outside the village, so he'd walked all the way and watched the sun set behind the local lighthouse. Dusk had settled in almost immediately, and he had been startled somewhat by the first scarecrow that he's caught sight of. It wasn't this regenerations tendency to jump at shadows, but something about the air and dusk was alien and interfered with his usual temperaments.

It had been warm enough to walk without his leather jacket when he'd started the walk, but he'd been forced to put it on as dusk as settle in and the air turned to ice and frost. He didn't shiver but he felt a chill in his bones just behind his kneecaps and elbows and that could and had affected his performance in the past. It had worsened as he'd approached the village and examined the roadsign stating such with his sonic screwdriver.

There was certainly something odd about the village, but his sonic screwdriver couldn't pinpoint its exact location or origin. He'd have to enter and find out for himself; otherwise he'd followed his TARDIS' lead for nothing. He's simply been floating in the time vortex as usual with no determined location when he'd literally been dragged to the here and now by something in the area. With nothing better to do he'd simply followed his nose.

A short walk led him into the town square, a huge decorative water fountain adorning the centre. From there, he could view the whole square and see that it was literally the centre of the village. From here, he could see the local pub (The Sheppard's Bush), the school, post office and bus stop. By standing on a bench, he could see over these buildings and see that the housing was located behind in a square pattern with wide streets in-between. It was self-enclosed community.

"Welcome to Summerisle" he muttered to himself, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking towards the coast.

**-Doctor Who-**

The gods had spoken of retribution for the disturbance, and returned to the sea and beyond. Still knelt-down in the sand, there were oblivious to the leather jacket-clad figure standing on the cliff edge above, crouched down looking through binoculars. A light blue glow emitting from his sonic screwdriver was the only clue he was there, but he'd retired from edge long before people in their pyjamas began to return to their homes.

"I could do with a little holiday" he replied to no-one, replacing his sonic screwdriver in his pocket.


	2. Gravestones & Nightmares

Doctor Who

BodySwap

Featuring The Ninth Doctor and Tenth Doctor

Written By Mark Lomas

**This is the first proper chapter to this special Doctor Who story. It is the beginning of a special series, nicknamed 4.5, and has its own 'story arc'. The first person who can guess what the 'story arc' word is will get a character named and designed after them. Thank you for reading. **

**Also, for the sake of this story, Elizabeth will be played by Joanna Page. **

**Chapter One: Introductions**

'_Civilisation is unbearable, but it is less unbearable at the top' _–Timothy Leary

**The following takes place between Journey's End and The Next Doctor**

"Alright, I'm coming" Elizabeth Swanson shouted down the stairs from the upstairs landing to the person knocking loudly on the front door.

Dressed in a fluffy blue dressing gown and matching slippers, long blonde hair a scraggly mess down her back. Her bedroom door was slightly ajar behind her, warm dawn sunlight streaming in and concentrating on where her head should have been on her pillow. It had been this that had woken her up, but it was the rapid and loud knocking on the front door downstairs that forced her up and out. She glanced at both her watch and bedside clock to make sure her muddled brain hadn't created some alien time or manipulated her own perception; it was 6am

She and her parents, married for 30 years and lived in the village for 50, lived above and ran The Sheppard's Bush pub situated in the main square. Serving traditional food and drink all day, every day, Elizabeth and her parents were ideal residents for the village of Plucknit and the ancient traditions and rituals that came from being such. But in all the 25 years they had run the pub, never had a loud banging echoed throughout the old and traditional bar, bedrooms and living rooms. For the 18 year old Elizabeth, the successive banging could possibly have shattered her happy reality.

As her parents weren't responding to the knocking or giving any indication they ever heard it, Elizabeth reluctantly decided to tend to the source of the problem. In a blur of fluffy blue nightmare, she descended into the dark and dank bar and padded across the room to the heavy oak door with more locks than was needed. There was no crime rate or reports of burglaries; everyone trusted each other so there was no needed to lock the door in the first place. But it took her a good 2 minutes to find the keys behind the bar and unlock the front door.

Standing in the doorway, hand held mid-knock in the air, stood a man who reeked of danger and mystery. Taller than she was, he had a head of closely cropped black hair, huge ears dominating an middle-aged yet tired looking face. He was dressed in a dusty and worn down black leather jacket atop a casual green jumper and black trousers. Elizabeth was slightly taken aback but when the stranger, in one sudden moment, burst into the biggest and happiest and most genuine smile she had ever see, her heart seemed to relax and for a brief moment smiled back.

"Hello, I was wondering if you had any free rooms?" the stranger asks, dripping in northern drawl. When Elizabeth said nothing, he put his thumb up and cocked it towards a chalk-board sign nailed to the door that said, '_Rooms Available. Just Ask :)'_

Elizabeth said nothing but subconsciously stepped aside to let the stranger in, who marched in with hands shoved in his jacket. While he took in the room with a quick succession of glances, she moved to a small table and picked up a red leather book. The stranger, in a one moment, spun round on the spot and faced her with his hands held behind his back.

"I'm the Doctor, by the way" the stranger identified, looking up at the ceiling and probably guessing where the spare room likely was.

Elizabeth nodded and wrote down the name, scrunching up her nose slightly as she finished the 'r' from 'Doctor', looking up at him in a quick succession to make sure the man was real and not some figment of her sleep deprived mind. It was true, she hadn't been in a mood to sleep of late, resorting to watching trashy 80s horror movies on her DVD player and eating popcorn. She had tried not having her usual cup of coffee before bed, going to bed earlier, watching a real boring program on TV which her parents found riveting. But it didn't work; her mind was just too active of late.

That and her boyfriend Jonathon was being a real pain in the backside, sometimes refusing to answer her texts and hanging up during an argument on the phone. She had plans to leave the village at some point, move away to the city and go to college. She wanted real education, not just the mandatory lessons she'd been given when she younger at the local school. Her life had been planned out from beginning to end by her parents, wanting her to run the pub when they eventually retired, or worse, died. Jonathon wanted her to stay, and had taken to taking out Zoe on the occasional evening to make her jealous.

"How long do you plan on staying?" she found herself asking, as the Doctor leaned against the bar she had put herself behind.

His eyes twinkled slightly as he smiled at her and took a glance at the home-made calendar hanging behind the bar, decorated by the local kids in the style of their favourite movies.

"A few days maybe, probably three at the most" he replied, leaning back and scratching his hair.

She could tell he had probably been caught in the small downpour she had heard about 5am when she'd woken from a nightmare of giant snakes, her old headmaster and a dancing scarecrow. It had simply been a slight misting, not doing any lasting damage but on the side caused the lights from the lampposts to be reflected in patterns on the pavement. Looking into her booking book saw that '5' was available and took the key off the hook from under the bar.

"Room 5 is free upstairs, first door on the right with the eagle plague" Elizabeth handed him the key, feeling a tingle through her body as their skin touched.

For a brief moment, she looked up at the gentlemen before her, all leather jacket and northern accent, and could suddenly see an infinite amount of experience in his eyes. Like he travelled far and wide and never had a home, always kept running and didn't look back. Like he'd seen the explosion of a dying star and the destruction of the Gods. She shivered.

"Thank you very much" he said, giving her a wide grin that took her back abet. She felt suddenly much better about being in his company.

The Doctor palmed the keys and turned to the stairs, smiling back at Elizabeth before ascending the stairs, his footsteps echoing off the wooden steps and throughout the inn. As she heard him put his key in the lock and open the door, she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and rubbed her eyes, trying to clear the blur from her eyes. Sun had begun to shine in through the windows dotted about the small ill and she glanced down at her watch to check the time. It wasn't even 7am. Back to bed.

**-Doctor Who-**

His brown overcoat flapped in the wind as he stood on the cliff, the wind blowing through his impossible hair. His TARDIS stood in the wet grass behind him, door locked and engines asleep. At times he would sometimes just land on a planet and let the TARDIS rest, it was the least he could do for all she did for him. The last child of Gallifrey, She too had been affected by the Time War, and the Doctor could feel it in his hearts that she was hurting. It was probably why she'd land in 1879 instead of 1979.

The Doctor had found out that he'd landed in 2009 Earth in a small costal town called Littlerock Bay, reading a discarded newspaper in a small bin beside the TARDIS. He'd wanted to make sure he knew where he was before exploring, wanting to make sure Daleks or Ice Warriors lurking about. There could still be some about, but the percentage was cut from 50% to 9% just by picking up that paper. His hearts were at least again for a moment, but the pain lingered again about reason and he thought about why the TARDIS had brought him here in the first place.

He glanced down across the open sea and breathed in the salty fresh air, suddenly wishing there was someone he could share this simple and human sight with. He missed having a companion and friend to travel the cosmos with, an equal to share the sights and wonders of the universe with. He'd enjoyed taking Donna to the Third Broken Moon of the Medusa Cascade, Martha to the Crystal Pyramids Of Mars; and Grayla to the Dust Mines Of Telmon. But the life he led; travelling across and around the universe fighting the forces of evil and unjust just for the goodness.

He glanced down onto the beach below and saw something that was out of place, the first thing he'd noticed. A row of gravestones lay in the sand, all of various shapes and sizes. There was no fence to protect them from the general public; they simply sat there crudely in the sand like a cruel mockery of death and despair. The rest of the beach was plain and covered in sand, small rocks jutting out. A small rock pool lay across from the graves, but he was too high to see if crabs or other life was swimming in its grimy depts.

He wandered towards what looked like the path to the beach and saw that a winded path had been formed around the outside of the cliffs, moving deeper and outwards the further you went down A wooden barrier the height of his waist was the only thing to stop him tripping and tumbling to his next regeneration. His sneakers echoed against the walls and the open air and he took the steps one at the time to save him a fall. The path looked well trodden, with small dinks and kinks in the rough stone. He reached terma firma and his shoes sank into the wet sand.

It was secluded where he was stood, the cliffs looking down on him like behemoths from the stars. They reminded him of the Giants Of Kratos, except they weren't breathing fire and blasting lightning from their eyes. He took a glance at the gravestones, crouching down in the sand and getting his knees wet as he ran a finger along the crude script on the front. It looked rush and amateurish, most of the graves themselves just planks of flat wood rather than traditional stone. Only first names showed that they had owners. He stood up and dusted the sand off, walking with a slump towards the rock pool.

The water of green and slimy, which showed a great deal of uncare. He could see shapes and shadows below the slime, and didn't want to risk putting his hand in to see it they were fish, crabs or something else. Other than that, the beach was peaceful yet had a sense of desolation that haunted his bones. He raised a finger into the air and felt the wind brush against his skin, discovering that the closest civilisation wasn't far. Shoving his hands into his coat pocket, he began to make his way back up the cliff.

**-Doctor Who-**

_A Dalek moved through the citadel, flanked by two more blasting two Time Lords into skeletons. The Doctor, velvet waistcoat and a head of brown hair, stood at the top of the steps. Romana, or Romanadvoratelundar, crouched down behind him, having regenerated since their last encounter. The 'weapon' lay in her hand, taken from the top of citadel to use against the invading Dalek forces. They seemed more agitated than usual, more than likely due to Davros' death at The Gates Of Elysium and at the jaws of the Nightmare Child. _

"_Take this" Romana gasped, passing the 'weapon' into the Doctor's hand as he glanced round and stared at her with hollow eyes._

_His Eighth regeneration was younger than most of his more recent ones, yet his eyes seemed to burn with haunted age as he looked at the object in his hand and then into her own eyes, silently praying that Gallifrey and the fabric of time could be saved without the use of such a weapon. He hated violence, never carried a weapon. Events had been this severe before, during the first Time War against the Black Sun, but never had the 'weapon' ever been in question. His two hearts ached with sorrow._

"_But to use such a weapon...this could be the end of our people...the entire Time Lord race..." he begged as he rose to his feet._

_Romana clambered up his arm and leant against him, her auburn hair smattered against her face amid the blood of countless Time Lords on her shallow cheeks. She gripped his hand and the weapon secured within, and kissed his softly on the lips as he fought to hold back his tears and the emotions swelling up within his hearts. He loved this woman more than he would ever admit out loud, a feeling he wanted to hold onto forever. But he could tell that this was the last time he would ever hold her in his arms, would kiss her and worry and protect her._

"_Do the right thing, for the sake of everything. Do it for another Genesis" Romana cried, pulling away and squeezing his hand._

_The Doctor wiped his face with his shirtsleeves, turning towards the Daleks moving towards them through the hall. Romana backed away towards the stairs towards the tower, picking up her discarded sonic screwdriver as she went. They shared a last look before she vanished upwards, knowing where she was going. 'It' needed to be shut down, so that the Daleks couldn't use it against them or against the cosmos. It would possibly cost her life, but they were dead anyway._

"_You are The Doctor, an enemy of the Daleks!!!" the black Supreme Daleks barked up at the shadowy figure walking down the steps towards them._

_In all his grace and wonder, as The Oncoming Storm, as The Destroyer Of Worlds, The Doctor nodded his own sweet way and ran forwards..._

**-Doctor Who-**

The Doctor screamed out and jumped up in bed, sweat and tears running down his face. He breathed in deeply and glanced around the room he was in, surprised to see small rays of light coming in from behind the curtains. He could tell almost immediately that he'd only been asleep for 10 minuets, but he'd experienced everything and everyone and he scared him to death. The memories of the Time War still warped his mind and he afraid to go the sleep or even close his eyes. Jumping out of bed and moving to the window, he swept the curtains open and saw something that shocked him.

From his window, he could see over the main street and the neighbouring shops. There was an old fashioned sweat shop, a bakery that he could smell, a toy shop and newsagents. But it was the tens of people, dressed in stages of undress, walking down the street towards the beach. He couldn't see their faces or tell their expressions, but something didn't sit right. Call it a Spider-Sense if you will, but he could tell that something was wrong. Grabbing his leather jacket off the end of the bed, he ran out the door.


	3. The Spying Game

Doctor Who

BodySwap

Featuring The Ninth Doctor and Tenth Doctor

Written by Mark Lomas

**Hi. Sorry this chapter has taken such a long time to appear. I'm currently a third year university student so therefore have quite a lot of work to do. But hopefully this chapter will be worth it. Thank you for all the support people have given me; look out for some surprises coming up.**

**Simon Baker is played by Timothy West**

**Chapter Two: The Spying Game**

"_Since knowledge is but sorrow's spy, it is not safe to know" –_William Davenant

**The following takes place between Journey's End and The Next Doctor**

The Tenth Doctor had reached the steps leading back up the cliff when his Time Lord senses sensed them. He stalled mid-step onto the first stone slab, and instinctively leaned forward an inch. Shoes and feet of various shapes and sizes scraped and slid on the same steps he'd transversed minutes before, yet these steps were more uniform and controlled.

Backing away slowly, the Tenth Doctor glanced upwards and from his POV saw legs of various designs rounding the corner that led round the final function on the steps to the beach. Nightcaps and dressing gowns flapped in the light of the morning dawn. He wasn't sure what part of his intellect told him to do what he did, but he retreated past the plank graveyard and surprised even himself by finding a man-sized hole in the cliff that offered a clear view of the surf.

He backed out of view and into the dank space that offered no wiggle room as they appeared before him. Men, women, children and even dogs appeared before him in the surf, dressed like they'd simply marched out of their beds and walked down to the beach. He reached behind him and judged that the cave space offered more room, so he retreated more making sure not to bang his elbows. He slipped his tortoise-shell glasses on his youthful face as he studied what was happening before him.

The people had collapsed onto their knees, sinking into the surf without any care of worry. The air almost invisibly sparked as their stared out across the sea; to the tanker in the far distance, the collection of rocks that almost blocked off the island from the rest of humanity. The Doctor had taken out his sonic screwdriver and immediately realised he'd picked up a signal. It was faint and buzzed rather than beeped, but something triggered in his mind and pulled his memory back, back to when he was all teeth and curls.

He absentmindedly shook his head slightly as he turned off the sonic, realising he needed to return to his TARDIS and analyse the signal. He knew that that was the key to beginning to understand what was happening to the people of the village. For the first time, he spun his head and took in the cave before him. About the same size as a moderately-sized living room of a middle-class home; shadows in the corners and in the back blocked out most of his vision.

Pulling a box of everlasting matches from his coat pocket, he struck it alike on the side of the box and glanced into the cave with the added aid. It was non-descript, save for the man-sized doorway in the very back outlined by a wooden frame similar to those seen in mines. There was nothing leading to it, no outline of a path or the long-long marks of tracks. He had found a way out, if events outside took an unseen way for the worse.

Holding the match behind his back at a safe distance, he returned to his vigil at the cave opening and saw that events had indeed moved forward. The people with their knees in the sand had continued praying in his absence, but some of them had gotten to their feet and had begun wading through the surf towards nothing in particular. The Doctor wanted to stop them, but aired on the side of caution and stalled with one foot on the sand and the other in pitch blackness.

Suddenly, like something was under the waves waiting, the people in the surf were suddenly dragged under one-by-one. It was almost beautiful in its pattern and symmetry. They had been stood in a 2 lines of 5, inches apart and separated by a small body of water. The first person in each line vanished first, and followed in this pattern down the line until there was no-one left in the surf. There was then a moment of sure silence, followed by an inaudible burst that the Doctor barely made out over the sound the people were making. Almost uniformly, like soldiers in a lost war without an end, they began to make their way back towards the cliff steps.

It was clear to the Doctor that they were returning to where they had come from, and judging from the area, he judged they'd come from the local village he'd spotted from the cliff top. _The local villagers_ the Doctor theorised to himself due to the lack of friend and companion. Once the last villager had vanished from his view, he held his breath and counted to ten very slowly before he leaned back out.

The beach was empty once again, like it had been minutes before.

**-Doctor Who-**

The Ninth Doctor lay on his front in the wet grass, Opera glasses to his eyes. These small binoculars had allowed him to view the scene on the beach without having to get dangerously close. He'd picked a spot away from the main path to the beach so when the villagers had climbed back up the steps and returned to the village, they hadn't spotted him or even walked close to his location.

He'd ducked down more onto his stomach when they'd returned from down below, and from his angle, he could tell they were under some sort of influence. Their eyes were blank, their gazes vacant, their walk predetermined and without any fault. They weren't actually robots or slaves; they still had free will but a filter seemed to be consuming them and giving them subconscious orders that didn't counteract the human free will.

He was puzzled by the sight of the villagers vanishing under the waves, and had felt an urge to run to their aid when they'd been dragged under. However, something nagged at the back of his mind and he'd frozen to the spot, almost as if he'd been willed to do so. There was also the matter of his sonic screwdriver, which had picked up some kind of low-audible signal but seemed weaker than usual, almost as if a similar device was in play somewhere nearby. He theorized it was possible a signal from somewhere close-by was the cause.

He rose to his feet slowly and walked towards the cliff edge, glanced down and saw nothing but sand glittering in the early morning sun. Small pieces of shell and coral reflected the sun into his eyes, and he squinted as he suddenly became aware of someone staring at him nearby. Looking to his left, someone was standing beside him taking in the morning air.

It was a man in his late 50s, with a head of faltering grey hair covered by a brown flat-cap. He wasn't the smallest man in the world, but in no sense of the world would the Doctor call him fat. He had a figure that came with old age. He wore a ruby-coloured jumper with blue tie under a worn-brown winter coat topped off with a uniform grey scarf to protect against a non-existent chill.

For a few moments, neither man said anything to the other; they simply took in the view. Almost silently, the older gentlemen went into his coat pocket and pulled out a small white bag. He offered the bag to the Doctor, who froze almost in a stance to run. Instead, he removed his hands from his jacket pocket and looked inside, almost pleased to find sherbet lemons pilled inside.

"Take one, they're good" the man said, smiling as the Doctor took one without a word.

"I saw what happened, by the way" he replied to the silence, causing the Doctor to almost spit out the sweet he'd popped into his mouth.

"Who are you?" the Doctor asked, in his most non-threatening way. He wasn't sure who this person was, but knew he wasn't a threat in the most obvious way.

The man replaced the sweets into his coat pocket and pulled out some gloves, putting him on and tightening his scarf around his somewhat flabby neck. He glanced at the Doctor full-on, and the Doctor realised his eyes were sad and very much alone.

"My name is Simon Baker. I'm a local resident of Littlerock. This sort of thing has been happened for a while now, I thought I was going insane to be honest" he conspired, scratching his forehead as a weight seemed to be lifted off his shoulders.

Both men took a seat on a bench and stared out across the sea, at the tanker and the morning sky. Seagulls flew in pattern through the rays of light, flying down to catch breakfast from the surf. The air tasted of salt and the sea, but was soon replaced by smells from the village. The residents had returned, seemingly unaware of what had happened, and had gone about their morning ritual.

Milkmen and postmen making their rounds, bacon and eggs hitting frying pans in family kitchens with bread toasting in toasters. The normality of life had returned to the people of Littlerock Bay, except for the crumbled shape of Simon Baker. He looked weaker than he had moments before, perhaps hiding behind the façade that nothing was front. The normality seemed to scare him more, made him realise something was wrong.

"Start from the beginning" the Doctor began, touching Simon's shoulder.

"A few months ago, I was watching something on the television at home, some cop programme or something like that. I live by myself ever since Cheryl passed away in the summer; she went in peace at least"

Emotion seemed to grip him again in an iron grip, but he continued on in a sombre tone, almost wishing the last year of his life hadn't happened, but a bad dream wrapped in an unforgivable nightmare.

"I heard doors and windows opening through the village, and then a lot of movement and commotion in the street outside. Looking out my window, I saw people in the village, almost all of them by my reckoning, walking up the hill towards the beach. They were wearing pyjamas and slippers, and I went outside to see what was happening. But they walked past like they didn't notice me, even Helen who I've had drinks with every Thursday for the better part of a year"

"You said almost all of them? Do you know why you weren't affected?" the Doctor queried, putting his hands back into his pockets.

Simon shook his head. "No idea. There are only 4 of us in the village not affected. Me, the post office mistress Angela, headmaster of the local school Harold and the daughter of landlords of the Sheppard's Bush, Elizabeth"

It suddenly occurred to the Doctor that he hadn't seen Elizabeth in the throng, and realised she'd probably gone back to bed after her rude awakening by him this morning. Simon continued his story, rubbing his hands to keep warm in what was called a sudden chill wind.

"Those of us not affected followed them to the beach, and saw them march into the sea. Obviously we panicked and ran down to the beach, but there was nothing we could do. We tried to call the police, the coast guard, anyone. But none of the phones or internet was working; it was almost like a lockdown in our village. But then they returned"

The Doctor straightened up for a moment, and zipped up his leather jacket. It had indeed got colder, and the suddenly decrease in temperature worried him. Like it was the genesis of the end, that it was sign that the worse was about to happen. Simon didn't seem to notice, finishing his story.

"The people returned to the village, and suddenly acted like nothing had happened. Mr. Clarkson even went straight to the post box to post a letter. When we asked them about it and told them, they had no idea what we were talking about. Elizabeth even took photos on her phone; but they had mysteriously vanished. No evidence of what they're doing exists, except for our memory" Simon finished, almost relieved that his story was finally out and told to an outsider. Maybe this person could help.

The Doctor rubbed his chin, got to his feet and looked back down at the early morning beach. He stood there for a few moments, taking in the morning air once again. His lungs felt chilled, his bones ached and his brain wanted to scream. But it was obviously what he had to do.

He had no idea what was happening, only had sparse clues as to what was happening, but he had to admit he was curious. It took an incredible amount of technology to misplace memories and wipe out all evidence; in a scientific way he was excited. Maybe this sort of event would take his mind off what had happened, what could still happen.

"_Protect them all.." _Romana had whispered before the Dalek bolt took her life

Spinning around, the Doctor held out his hand in Simon's direction.

"Come along then, Simon my boy. We have a village to save"

**-Doctor Who-**

The Tenth Doctor was crouched down in the cave, in the centre staring up. He didn't know why, but he felt the cave was important. He'd checked the ground and found no secret holes or passageways, but something about where he stood was important. He imagined it was what people felt when they stood where his TARDIS had once been, almost like something extraordinary had taken place there.

Making a mental note of the spot, he stood up and walked towards the passageway behind him marked out by the wooden frame. His everlasting match showcased a narrow passageway straight ahead, into a dark unknown. He didn't know how far it went, but he judged it went as far as the village which was at least half a mile. But something deep down told him it could be longer.

Taking a deep breath, the Doctor entered the cave.

**-Doctor Who-**

The villains of the tale stood in their base, watching events through their spy's eyes. It saw the man in the suit and trainers and impossible hair watching the ritual, the abducting, whatever outsiders called it. They could tell he would be a problem, a fault in their over wise perfect plan.

"_He needs to be dealt with" _one hissed.

"_Yes. Have any been processed yet?" _one queried.

"_Can we risk one? After all the work?" _another pondered.

They looked at each other almost in fear of what suddenly occurred to them all. It was a risk, a danger that could ruin everything. It didn't take the stranger to spoil their plans and ruin their futures. They were more than capable of dooming themselves, and it was the riskier of the options.

"_It would be a perfect experiment. Think of the data" _the first one finally replied

"_All the data we could gather? Make them better, increase our success" _the second one salivated.

The third one, the leader perhaps, looking at the others in confidence.


	4. The Reveal

Doctor Who

BodySwap

Featuring the Ninth Doctor and the Tenth Doctor

**Thank you for all your excellent reviews and reception; I now know this story has a lot of potential. At the same time as writing this story, I will begin work on other Doctor Who projects you may be interested in. A full 13-story 'series' features the Eleventh Doctor, Rory, Amy and quite possibly River Song, a Sarah Jane Adventures story that will celebrate the character of Sarah Jane Smith and lead into a new project featuring the Bannerman Road crew, a Torchwood story and a classic Third Doctor story. Thank you for all your support.**

**Chapter Three: The Reveal**

"_Everything you'll ever need to know is within you; the secrets of the universe are imprinted on the cells of your body" _-Dan Millman

**The following takes place between Journey's End and The Next Doctor**

Harold Jackson paused as he heard to sound of his gate click open and then close again, followed by rushed footsteps across the gravel path. The teapot in his hand rocked slightly as he tried to regain his composure, afraid that one of them 'zombies' might be finally coming for him. Instead, he was almost relieved when a knock sounded on his door, moderately secure in his musing that 'zombies' probably wouldn't knock, instead breaking down the door. Placing the tea-pot down on the table as he passed, he opened to door to find Angela Hawkshore stood there.

One of the 'chosen four', Angela was the mistress of the post office and had a stern and fearful manner. While he had a shallow face and greying hair, Angela had a swollen, rueful face and a head of flaming red hair that was no doubt dyed or a wig, despite his believe a wig might be more believable. Harold wasn't frail in his appearing as such, he just seemed so to Angela's bulking frame and loose fitting cloths to hide the lumps and bumps in comparison to Harold's tight fitting grey creased suit that hid nothing, not even his wallet and pocket watch.

Harold was the headmaster of the local school, a man who was detested for his old-school presentation school style, strict time keeping for students and staff and a hatred for the new internet and technology age. While classrooms on the mainland had interactive whiteboards and Wi-Fi connection, the local school was all brick with chalk and wooden chairs, a straight-forward comparison to the newer curriculum. He gave a speech to the students every Friday, about the goals and aims of all concerned (added with looks for the staff who hated him for his old school antics and would have worked elsewhere but couldn't due to lack of experience, a travel expense and much better candidates with much better teaching experiences) and his hopes for a bright future. To sum him up in a few words, old school was very much the description of choice.

Angela ran the local post office, and ruled it with an iron fist. She was a dictator (that isn't too strong a word) who did very little work herself but had enough money and power to get her staff to work twice as hard to make up for it. She enjoyed a good drink, too many of the weekend to say the least, but was quite lonely in her existence. A dead husband, kids who wanted nothing to do with her, she was the last in a long line of an ancestry no-one really cared about. So she was mean spirited, barged her way through life, and had only dogs for company. She was hated, and hated she was for a reason.

"Are you to let me in then?" she barked, trespassing on his morning ritual as she pushed her way through the door.

Wearing a pink coat with furred collar, she flung it over the chair at the kitchen table and helped her-self to the tea from the pot as she took a uninvited seat at the table that dominated the small kitchen. Harold himself didn't need all the space modern houses had, his home was in fact like something out of an episode of Midsummer Murders. Standing there, Harold walked over to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of milk and plunked it down on the table.

"Help yourself, why don't you?" he barked, taking a seat opposite her and making his own tea.

Angela took a sip and placed the cup back down on the table. "Thank you for cancelling the meeting last night by the way"

"Elizabeth cancelled to work in her parent's pub, and Simon simply cancelled for reasons unknown. To be honest, I didn't fancy spending time just the two of us and I just assumed you thought the same" he replied, buttering a croissant from a basket in the centre of the table.

She pursed her lips and sickly smiled at him. "Did you see them, this morning? It happened again"

"I know. I spotted them when I went to get my paper off the mat. Luckily the paper boy had delivered it before he marched off to the beach" he stated.

"So what are we going to do? These meetings aren't helping or giving us any ideas. I say we try to leave the island again" she suggested, crossing her arms in a huff.

"The last time we tried to leave, we found ourselves blocked by that shield-thing. Were trapped here, we can get as far as Whitney lane and that's it" he fidgeted while looking out the window. He could hear footsteps outside.

"What I want to know is why we've had no visitors. It's as if Littlerock Bay has been cut off from the rest of the world" she exclaimed as a soft bang echoed off the front door.

Rising, Harold opened the front door and found two people stood there. One of them was Simon, dressed for his morning walk (last birthday present hat included) and the other was someone he'd never seen before. Short hair, interesting face, leather jacket, quite tall, the stranger beamed at him and spoke with a strong northern accent.

"I'm here to help save Littlerock Bay"

**-Doctor Who-**

As it turned out, the passageway came out at a lighthouse. The Tenth Doctor has walked uneventfully through the cave passageway and had come across a ladder before long. Climbing up quickly, he'd found himself in what looked like a basement full of barrels, crisp packets and bottled. _A pub _the Doctor mused. A quick search had given him the time (7.50 am) and the impression that the owners were upstairs asleep. For some reason, he felt strange, almost as if he'd been in the pub before.

He'd used his sonic screwdriver on the front door and taken a quick glance at what looked like a village square, quiet and empty except for 1 or 2 people, a postman and the milkman. He'd recognised them as people from the beach, so it seemed like life had returned to normal. Recce done, he returned down the ladder and continued walking through the cave. If he was going to sort of the problem, he needed all the information.

He'd found another ladder, and at the top has found himself staring up at a huge lighthouse. Pristine white, and a short walk from the village, its light was inactive in the morning dawn. He put on his glasses and stared up at the lighthouse, put his face right up to the wall and gave it a lick and looked disgusted. He was never going to taste stuff to discover information again. Putting his glasses away, he climbed up the tourist steps to the door of the lighthouse and tried to door. It was locked.

**-Doctor Who-**

The Doctor has been spotted by them. From the waves, they could see everything. Emerging from the secret cave entrance, trying the door, using a weird tube device to unlock the door.

"_It is time" _one hissed.

"_Activate the signal" _another smiled

"_For the Empire" _ a third one growled.

**-Doctor Who-**

The Doctor had opened the door when the sea exploded behind him. He spun around on the soles of his feet and glanced upwards at the shape before him. Rising out of the water, it caused water to rain down on him.

The creature had a huge body and a giant thrashing tail the size of 7 buses. It also had a long neck twice the size of its tail, and a giant reptilian head. It resembled a dinosaur, but the Doctor knew what it was. Coloured green with the texture of a reptile, but the Doctor knew better; beneath the synthetic skin was gears, and cogs and circuits. Futuristic technology, buzzing with alien power and technology, the Doctor was face to face with a destroyer of worlds, of space vessels and of hundreds of UNIT soldiers and London citizens many years before.

The Zygon secret weapon…The Skarasen…

**-Doctor Who-**

Exor the Zygon leader glanced at the scanner. Generals Malkor and Bexmor stood by the controls, watching the scene from their vantage points. Solidly built humanoid in shape with cone-shaped heads, the Zygon's had suckers covering their heads, arms and torsos. Their voices came out as gasping rasps as they spoke.

"_Have we identified the intruder?"_ Exor rasped at his generals, glancing over at them at their controls.

"_Luckily, our scanners have been able to access the central UNIT computer Exor"_ Malkor said, putting his information onto the big scanner screen on the giant wall before them.

Millions of numbers and works flicked across the screen as their technology found what the search parameters had been requested to find and displayed it as text and images.

"_UNIT has managed to gather much information about all the races in the cosmos, due to invasion attempts and close encounters. They had encounters with others of our kind multiple times. Broton's invasion attempt, for example, and the recent attempt by Brelarn. There is only one common aspect between them"_ Bexmor blared as the screen began showing images.

The first image showed the Zygon Broton. The next showed UNIT troopers. The final image showed a man, dressed in a long coat, multi-coloured scarf and hat. _"Timelord"_ Exor exclaimed.

"_This should interest you more, Exor" _Bexmor declared as the image on the screen changed to that of Brelarn and then the same stranger the Skarasen was engaging.

"_The Time Lord is here?" _Exor blared

"_I thought them all dead in the Time War" _said Malkor

"_This is the Doctor, sworn enemy of the Zygon empire" _Bexmor crooned, almost finding joy in the image and thought.

Exor turned to scanner and the image of the Doctor and the Skarasen and a thin smile came across his face. _"Forget the data. Destroy him"_

Malkor turned a dial on his control desk.

-**Doctor Who-**

_The Zygons_ the Doctor deduced as the Skarasen roared before him. It did indeed look like a prehistoric dinosaur, yet the Doctor knew the truth behind it. Skarasen's had been massive organic creatures before the Zygon empire genetically altered them to suit their purposes; using Skarasen milk to keep themselves alive. It was a slave to the Zygon Empire.

It was obvious to the Doctor that there were Zygons inside the lighthouse, as he'd only been attacked when he'd attempted to order. It was also easy to deduce that they were behind the hypnosis of the villagers, but he did not know why yet.

The Skarasen's eyes glowed red as their glanced down at him, a hungry look it is eyes. The Zygons wanted him gone, and the Skarasen was the perfect tool to end him beyond his regeneration. He needed to escape, retreat and come up with a plan to stop the Zygons.

The Skarasen's tail rose out of the water and plunged down towards the Doctor, who backed into the shelter of the lighthouse door as the ground beneath him shattered. Water gushed in as the rest of the wall splashed into the ocean. It was only then had he realised the door had locked again, obviously a dead lock seal to stop him escaping that way. The only way he could reasonable escape was the path to the village, which left him open to the Skarasen heat vision and other moves it in arsenal. He could also try the ladder with which he'd climbed to get there, but even that was a short run. It was the better of two options.

Removing his sonic screwdriver, he pressed the button a few times until he was satisfied. Taking a deep breath, he bolted out of hiding, aimed the screwdriver at the Skarasen and activated it. A giant sonic field struck it in the head, causing it to stagger as the Doctor's knee slammed into the wall. Biting through the pain, he sprinted for the hatch he'd come up from.

Unfortunately, the Skarasen recovered and opened fire with its heat vision, eyes burning gold. The wall in front of the Doctor exploded and he tumbled sideways, hitting the dirt and falling down the small verge into the tall golden grass. Moderately winded, he blinked the stars from his eyes and staggered to his feet, eyes wide as the Skarasen's neck and head darted forward, eager to taste Time Lord flesh. A quick blast of the sonic screwdriver caused it to again reel back in pain, and the Doctor darted up the verge on his knees for quicker ease. His fingers dug into the white lime of the sea wall as he tumbled up it, and darted again for the hatch.

More heat vision, but the Doctor had made it and quickly jumped blindly, grabbing hold of the ladder swiftly and abruptly as he fell. Pain rippled through every tendon in his body as his body refused what was happening. His body smashed into the ladder and he felt his body groan in pain. He risked a look up and saw the Skarasen's eyes glaring down at him, ready to deliver another eye beam. The Doctor let go of the ladder as it exploded, and the Doctor fell the distance to the cave floor. He smashed into the hard floor but rolled with the momentum and collapsed with his back to the wall in a somersault.

He had escaped the Skarasen.

**-Doctor Who-**

Exor smashed his fist into the wall as he watched the Doctor escape his Skarasen. It was ordered by remote control to return to the ocean to await further instructions. Malkor and Bexmor looked up from their research of footage of the Doctor and growled in unison.

"_We must bring our plan forward" _Exor sighed, marching over to an unseen chamber off their command centre.

"_We will begin the signal. Bring them to the beach while you two prepare those we already have" _he continued, still unseen by his generals.

Malkor nodded and pulled out a remote control, ready to activate the signal that would bring about the destruction of Littlerock Bay.


	5. Zygon Backstory Part 1

Doctor Who

BodySwap

Featuring the Ninth Doctor and the Tenth Doctor

**Chapter Four: The Zygon Backstory Part 1**

"_It's no wonder the truth is stranger than fiction. Fiction has to make sense" _ -Mark Twain

**The following takes place between Journey's End and The Next Doctor**

Zygon Invasion Fleet: In orbit above Cryla

The Zygon fleet, a 50 strong invasion fleet above the planet Cryla.

Cryla was prominently a planet consisting of 90% water covering its surface, with tiny settlements scatted across the vast surface at points of business and convenience. It had traded with nearby planets and stars, its main export being the almox coral found on the seabed. It was the only planet in the solar system almox coral could be found. It was traded with certain settlements on Sontar and with the Draconians, and used in the construction on body armour, assault weapons and transport. It had an in-built alloy that allowed for mobility and strength at the same time; for construction it allowed strength and added speed and manoeuvrability, for weapons; added extra strength and a bigger blast radius, for armour; it was the bonding that held it all together.

That was not the reason for the Zygon invasion fleet surrounding the planet. They had no use for the coral; it was a minor burden in their overall plans. They used those types of planets for the raising and training of Skarasens, Zygon trainers stayed on planet to training and study new battle techniques, how to adapt Skarasen's for all terrains that the Sontaran's may encounter in their invasions.

Exor left his command centre and walked along the water bank, past two Zygon trainers who were testing the resistance of fire on the Skarasen's body with flamethrowers. They saluted to Exor who regarded them with a slight nod, more concerned with the task at hand. Crossing a wooden bridge across a small body of water, he stopped and glanced out across the water in a rare moment of reflection.

He was huge compared to the other Zygons, his siblings were the same, but sadly many of them had passed on in various conflicts. His older brother Dexan was alive but was currently in the middle of a battle over various settlements against Cybermen in the alpha core. Exor himself was meant to be the support, but word from his leaders had forced him to babysit the younger troops who were left with the Skarasen training, all because he had ordered his troops to retreat against the overwhelming Ice Warrior forces during a routine scavenging mission a few months earlier.

That was how he found himself stood beside a Skarasen training pool, regretting his breeding and his life and the dead-end mission he had been ordered to do. As he stubbed out his x-stick on the cliff, he heard footsteps behind him and turned to see General Malkor approaching with a stern look on his face. He was one of a select few Zygons he respected and was glad was accompanying him on this water-filled cesspool of a planet.

"Enjoying the fresh air Commander?" Malkor asked, joining him by the river.

Exor crossed his arms and growled in his gut, distracting himself by staring at a Skarasen diving below the water. He blinked several times and addressed Malkor.

"This assignment is absolutely wasteful of our talents. Have you seen Bexmor?"

Malkor nodded and looked upwards to the top of the cliff, where another Zygon stood there holding and rifle, aiming at the water and shooting small fish that was the main food source of the Skarasens. He was an expert sniper, it was his special talent that he taught younger cadets. This, along with Exor's stealth and Malkor's strength, offered the younger cadets a menagerie of skills that allowed them to approach every situation and tactic against every energy.

Bexmor saw them both and in one fluid motion, had dived off the cliff top and landed in a crouched position by their feet. Rising to his feet, he regarded them with a small nod and joined them glancing out across the ponds.

The three Zygon soldiers stood there, glancing out across the ponds with little words or sounds shared or expressed between them.

"You are a good shop Bexmor. Care for a little wager?" Malkor smirked, folding his arms almost ceremoniously.

Exor spat and closed his eyes, feeling the cold shallow wind wash over his skin. A untold fact he had never shared with anyone was that he enjoyed the water and the smell of the salt that flared in his nostrils and scalded his skin until he was happy, an aspect and emotion that very few Zygons had; if they did have them they were usually associated with war.

They hated Sontarans, but they seemed to share the same similarities in certain aspects.

"I've just seen Axar" Bexmor suddenly addressed Exor. "He says he needs to see you immediately"

"Thanks for letting me know" Exor replied, leaving them to their game.

**-Doctor Who-**

"You're needed on the front-lines"

Exor ruffled at Axar's words as they both stood in the command cavern. Axar was the Zygon in charge of the entire operation, Exor being his second-in-command. Being smaller than him, Exor hated taking orders from him at the best of times, but Axar had proven himself in combat and beaten him in hand-to-hand combat on many occasions. He was small but his strength and skill more than made up for his size.

"The Sontaran campaign not going well, even with the aid of the Rutans?"

"Those Rutan dogs can only offer so much advice. The Rutan chancellors we dealt with only dealt with millennia-old intelligence. Sontarans only have one probic vent now, not like the old texts they used dictate"

Exor had to admire the Sontarn evolution; while the typical Zygon biology had pretty much gone unchanged in recent millennia, the Sontaran biology had changed dramatically and suited their hateful and lustful believes for the better. The DNA of the clones of the first Age had been passed on to the current generations, but each batch presented advancements in battle techniques for the brain and body, bigger bodies for durability, and the such.

The Sontarans were constantly changing in unseen ways; while the Zygon evolution had pretty much stood still.

"Well, you know the Sontarans, each skirmish with them gives us new insight into their techniques. Eventually, they'll reach their peak and we can crush them forever. For the sake of the Zygon empire, and the whole universe. We'll even be a match for the Daleks" Exor said dismissively.

"Unfortunately, we cannot wait. The Sontaran army have reached the Mardarian Reach and overthrown our Blanken outpost" Axar determined as he moved to his console and brought up a strategy map of the current skirmish under discussion.

"We could launch a Skarasen Zero strike towards Blanken, confuse the Sontaran army before my landing party engage them" Exor strategized as he brought up some other data from his handheld.

Axar nodded in silent agreement. "Take Grufnox Regiment with Bexmor and Malkor. The campaign needs our best"

Exor nodded and saluted, exiting the cavern and preparing for war.

**-Doctor Who-**

Blanken Outpost; 6 Vi Cycles Later

The Sontarn troop raised his assault rifle just as Malkor and a Zygon grunt barrelled over the lunar crust. One barb string stuck it in the face as Malkor swept his own rifle up and into the Sontaran's chin. He tumbled, the momentum carried more by Malkor as he slammed him into the ground and snapped his neck.

A supported 2 man Zygon team; one of the deadliest forces in the cosmos.

Exor, Bexmor and the rest of their squad emerged from teleport hubs, taking down the upcoming Sontarans who tried to rush their location. Single shot bursts was all it took.

"Bexmor, take the squad to Point A and kill the stragglers. Malkor, prepare rocket charges and breach at Point B. I'll go in through the observation port and take the Sontaran commander"

Three-way agreement. They moved like a single unit, undertaking their ordered tasks. 6 Sontaran commandos met their deaths at the hand of Bexmor and his squad; Malkor and his squad breached the base with the use of rocket launchers, and Exor and his squad pushed through the back and surprised the Sontaran squad. Only their leader survived, hidden behind a command console as the Zygons troops gathered together and raised their weapons.

"Command Wilx on Sontaran Command Zilton. Your troops are dead, surrender immediately or we will terminate you"

"You know the Sontaran rules of engagement, so you know that is not an option. It seems we have a stalemate"

The three Zygon leaders looked at each other in mock surprise, inching forward slightly to gain a slight advantage to this showdown. The Sontaran risked a look over the console and ducked as one of the Zygon grunts risked a shot, which missed and resulted in his death at the hand of Bexmor for insubordination.

"You do realise, Sontaran scum, that we could easily terminate you. All that matters now is how quick you want to die" Malkor mocked, nodding at Exor and Bexmor who realised the plan.

Programme 7; a perfected manevour practiced between friends for hostage situations.

Bexmor rushed forward to the left, causing Wilx to move and open fire with his rifle. He spotted Malkor behind him doing the same, trying to corner him in a vice-like trap. He pulled out a second hand blaster, fired a shot at Malkor who ducked and leapt over. Almost suddenly, Exor had a hold of Wilx around the middle with a knife buried in his side. He punched out, sending Exor flying backwards. He blasted at Bexmor and Malkor and caused them to back over, taking cover behind some counters as Exor found his feet and smirked.

The knife, buried up to the hilt, started to glow a deep red.

A detonation bomb, built into the knife, the perfect undercover Zygon weapon perfected by their oldest scientists and weapon specialists.

The Sontaran ignited, exploded, ceased to exist.

All that remained of the Sontaran forces.

Nothing.

-**Doctor Who-**

Their craft was taking them to the epicentre of the war, the star system Maximalforix. Full of planets made of nothing but molten liquid, the Sontarans wanted these planets for their clone factories and weapon creation. But the Rutans had to stop them from achieving their goals, going to such lengths as to send communications to legendary old foes the Zygons. They suddenly had a common enemy; the two empires joined forces to stop the Sontaran marching across the stars and enslaving countless worlds.

That was 7 cycles ago, and lot of heroes had fallen at the gun barrels of both sides. Both sides had had their victories, and their loses, their disappointments. While many other skirmishes were taken places in and around the fringes, the war would ultimately be won or lost in Maximalforix.

**Next: The Zygon Backstory Part 2 **


	6. Zygon Backstory Part 2

Doctor Who

Bodyswap

Featuring The Ninth Doctor and Tenth Doctor

**The next part of this story in finally here. Sorry for the extremely long delay, but personal problems have prevented me from writing for a while. This will be a short chapter.**

**This will be the final 'prologue' chapter for this story, as it's about time the Ninth and Tenth Doctors met...**

**Chapter Five: The Zygon Backstory Part 2**

"_The empires of the future are the empires of the mind" - _Winston Churchill

**The following takes place between Journey's End and The Next Doctor**

Exor, Malkor and Bexmor were greeted by the personal guard of Emperor Kardhar as they departed their craft in the landing deck. After arriving in Maximalforix System, their craft had been hailed by the Zygon flagship and ordered to appear in an 'audience' with their lord and emperor. The guard that met them off their craft were bigger and more darker in tone than the three warrior Zygons, plated in silver and gold armor covering their arms and legs to distinguish rank. No words were spoken between either party as they were led to the audience chamber.

They walked through gun-metal corridors with branching hallways, leading off to parts of the ship the three visitors weren't privy to seeing, although Exor knew they led to several engine rooms, the armour among other places that distinguished a Zygon flagship from others in the fleet. They solid footfalls echoed through the enclosed spaces as the party eventually came upon a brown, tarnished porthole flacked by two more members of the personal guard. As was customary, they handed over their weapons to the waiting Zygons who were at the beck and call of Kardhar.

Pistons hissed and motors turned as the porthole opened and Exor crouched low and entered. As Malkor and Bexmor attempted to follow their commander, energy sabres, radiating smoke-black energy, swung across from the waiting guards and blocked their path.

"What do you think your doing?" Malkor snarled, about to retaliate with a solid punch before one of the guards behind him swept his legs from under him and another pinned him to the floor.

In an instant, Bexmor was also slammed into the wall, slumping down into his own chest as all his extremities were pinched between stronger and better trained claws.

The personal guard, known as the Elite Guard, in whispered voices in dingier hovels that this, were an order of warriors for hire, made up of the best of the best from almost every species in the cosmos, even Daleks and Cyberman in the early days of their order. The members were handpicked by the High Breed and taken from their planets to be trained. Upon completion of the training, they could be hired by anybody with the right amount of currency and notoriety. Emperor Kardhar was one such individual.

Inside, Exor became aware that he was alone save two of the Elite, but said nothing or gave any physical indication that he'd noticed, or was stressed or put upon by such an event. Instead, he walked towards the centre of the room and collapsed down onto both knees as smaller and lighter footsteps were heard approaching.

Kardhar was one of the smaller Zygons on record, coming up to Exor's mid chest as a comparison. In order to show his place in the hierarchy of the Zygon monarchy, green bulbs punctuated various places on his body, most noticeably on his arms. They glowed and hummed with energy generated by his own body, a by-product of the monarchy upbringing of preserving themselves in liquid Aqrivium during periods of rest. He had the temperament, fighting skill and social skills of a school-yard infant, but it was Exor's duty to listen to everything he said.

"I heard what you did on Blanken. You are to be commended on your efforts during this war"

"Emperor" was all Exor said as he stood up and followed his emperor to the window before them.

Outside, they could see nothing but flashes of light from the raging battles against the clear blanket sky of space. For moments, both Zygons said nothing to each other, letting the atmosphere settle as each prepared what they would say next. Kardhar spoke first.

"Have you heard of the Polman Execute?"

Exor was taken aback by this sudden reveal of why he had been summoned. _The Polman Execute?! _He asked himself as Kardhar continued.

"I won't need to go into detail then. The necessary elements are in place, and execution has been grafted to you and you alone. Are you truly aware of what must happen now?"

Exor stammered a simple 'yes' and grappled if he should speak of his reservations moments before he did.

"My Emperor, are you truly sure that this is the right course of action? By the time the Polman Execute..."

Pain lashed through his entire body as black energy pulsed through is body and caused him to stumble against the glass of the window. An Elite with an energy sabre stood over him, beckoned forward by Kardhar before Exor had even opened his mouth. The Emperor, despite his size, throttled the Zygon warrior as he hissed in response.

"We do not need the advice of warrior excrement such as yourself. You, and every Zygon since the birth of our species, is aware of the risks and dangers and rewards of The Polman Execute. My earlier statement was to make sure that knowledge hadn't been lost in that swamp-filled skull of yours!" Letting Exor drop the floor, he continued.

"Your orders are simple. You know what must be done. When next we speak, you will be God among those below us. The galaxy will tremble at our new and fearsome might".

With that, Exor was left slumped on the floor, no place for a warrior Zygon.

**-Doctor Who-**

Exor returned to his Zygon brothers to find them sitting against the wall, the only ones in the hallway. The Elite Guard had left, mostly likely gone with Kardhar.

"The Polman Execture"

Bexmor's eyes widened in horror at those words. "Is is really that bad? Does that mean..?"

Malkor jumped up and made for the door back to the hanger bay. "We have to get out of here before it happens. I'm assuming you have it?"

Exor grimly nodded as his brothers and followed them as they walked with a hurried pace to the hanger. "I have the name of the planet. Are you two aware of what needs to be done?"

Bother Exor and Malkor nodded in unison.

**NEXT: Meetings **


	7. Meetings

Doctor Who

Bodyswap

Featuring The Ninth Doctor and Tenth Doctor

**The echoes of the past and future...colliding at the point of eternity...**

**Chapter Six: Meetings**

"_The__meeting__of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed.__"_ – Carl Gustav Jung

**The following takes place before Journey's End and The Next Doctor**

How long had he been out? Visions and sounds had assaulted his senses as he'd stumbled without any direction, tripping over his coat on occasion and getting turned around. _Concussion?! _the Tenth Doctor's fizzled mind spun trying to centre him back in reality. Jagged rocks dug into his palm as he brushed against the wall, biting his numb lip as he suddenly found himself leaning against a smooth wall, closing his eyes and welcome darkness.

Footsteps entered his subconscious, drumming a rhythm that shook the fillings in his teeth and ruffled his hair molecules. His bones and muscles ached as he attempted to stand, stumbling again and hitting the stone floor with a _crack. _Everything hurt, his Time Lord DNA had certain advantages against galactic storm clouds and diseases, but a common injury such as concussion affected him at it would a bog-standard human being.

At the end of his barely stable conscience, he was aware that someone was near him, standing over him? No, approaching him from somewhere else, behind him?

"What the...?" a female voice shattered the safety of sleep.

Elizabeth Swanson knelt down in front of the crumpled figure on the floor of her parents' pub basement. Dressed in a long brown coat, thin form fitted underneath a crumpled blue suit, the stranger with impossible hair blinked rapidly in response to her question. It was obvious he was hurt in some way or another, the only clue a blue bruise splattered across his forehead. She glanced around the room, looking for some clue as to explain the stranger before her. It was only when she looked did she notice a trapdoor open behind a box of crisps she had never known was there. She'd have to ask her parents about it later.

"Do you need any help?" she asked stupidly, knowing that the unanswered answer was yes.

The Doctor sat up sluggishly, arms slapping onto the floor in a vague sense of gaining some balance. Gaining little composure, he placed his palm flat on the ground and steadied himself, glancing up at Elizabeth with a miserable look mixed with wonder.

"I wouldn't say no to a cup of tea" he smiled.

**-Doctor Who-**

"Something is generating that shield to keep you all here, which also somehow drives visitors away at the same time"

The Ninth Doctor took another sip of his tea and fiddled with his sonic screwdriver as he spoke, gaining odd looks from Harold and Angela. Simon seemed used to the mysterious stranger, nodding in unison as he too took a sip of tea. The Doctor had taken off his jacket and was now scanning the whole room with his screwdriver, smiling and frowning in equal measure as he moved.

"From what I've seen and what you've told me, I'm going to guess brain control. It's been ages since I've seen brain control. Fantastic" he explained, widening his arms as if he were a magician revealing the greatest trick in the world.

"But what is controlling them, if what you're saying is true?" Harold fumed, accidently slamming his cup onto the table in a rare show of emotion, heightened by his fear.

The Doctor took a moment, glancing out of the window; saw something no-body else saw and dropped back into his seat. Simon followed his gaze out of the window but saw nothing of interest. The jubilant mood that had encompassed the room when he'd first entered had slowly drained out at this lack of remark.

"What a surprise, somebody else who doesn't have a clue" Angela smirked, walking to the window involuntary and following the gaze of the others.

Despite all this, all eyes in the room fell upon the Doctor, who seemed to have fallen into a trance, yet his face twitched as it was obvious to the observant that he was thinking rapidly. Suddenly, he jumped up and grabbed Simon by the shoulders, looking at him for a moment.

"What is it about that lighthouse none of you like?" he revealed, addressing the whole room but concentrating on Simon.

Nervous glances were shared between Angela and Harold, who had taken standing positions beside each other on the other side of the table. Even Simon seemed a little shook up, and it was only when he really noticed up-close did the Doctor see what he suspected; nobody could look at the lighthouse for more than a second.

"Whoever is behind all this, I think there in the lighthouse"

**-Doctor Who-**

"Another slice of toast, Doctor?"

The Tenth Doctor and Elizabeth sat across from each other at a table in the small pub kitchen, a pot of tea and plate of toast between them. After the Doctor had regained some of his senses, he'd introduced himself and visa versa and somehow persuaded her to listen to his story over breakfast.

The Doctor graciously took another slice and smiled at her, a warm smile he hadn't had since the last time Donna had made him laugh. It was his last great memory of her, both of them sat on an asteroid heading towards a super nova. After defeating the mega rocket hedgehog aliens from Brom-Nine, they'd been forced to catch a ride back to the TARDIS where he'd last parked it. Donna had made a joke about rocks and a hard-place, and the Doctor had smiled and hugged her tight as they'd jumped.

"So you've seen those people at the beach too?" the Doctor ventured.

Elizabeth, who'd asked the Doctor to call her Beth, nodded and smiled at him. "So you really expect me to believe what you've told me so far?" she said jokily.

The Doctor leaned back in his seat and took another bite of toast. "You know deep down its true, it explains everything. Zygons, an alien species that has the power to shape shift, have brainwashed this whole town for some reason or another, and have a killer sea monster protecting their base in the lighthouse. Except, you seem to be unaffected" he mused as he finished his toast.

"Let's say I believe you..."

"You believe me, or at least you want too. No other reason you'd help me and not tell someone when you find me in your basement otherwise" the Doctor interrupted.

Beth stammered and stopped, looking down into her cup of tea as he took a deep breath and carried on her side of the conversation.

"It isn't just me not affected. There are four of us who seem unaffected by this 'brain-washing'. We've been by ourselves for four months now; whenever we try to talk to the others they blank us and forget we even asked. We are at a loss" she blurted out, as the Doctor grabbed her hand across the table and gave it a squeeze.

"I'm here to help now. Please excuse this" he said, turning on his sonic screwdriver and running it against her forehead. Examining the results, he hummed and leaned back in his chair.

"I think we should go and see these friends of yours"

**-Doctor Who-**

The Ninth Doctor had finished his sonic examination of his three new friends and put it back into his jacket pocket.

"You are all normal, healthy human beings. No reason you shouldn't be joining the others on the beach" he revealed, suppressing a mild chuckle as Angela frowned at him.

Simon rubbed his eyes and patted him on the shoulder. "So how do we stop it?"

"The lighthouse. What can you tell me about it?" he replied, once again addressing the rag-tag team of freedom fighters.

It was Harold who spoke. "It's just a lighthouse. Been there since...well since I was a..."

"You can't remember because of the perception filter its emitting. Whatever is protecting you all from walking down to that beach is obviously not enough to protect you completely. Side-effects and all that, very technical" the Doctor summarised, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair.

"This Elizabeth you were talking about earlier, the other one not affected. You said her parents run that pub in town?"

"Yes" Simon said. "You want to talk to her?"

"I just want to scan her and see what she knows. Then we can decide together on what to do next. Simon, let's go see Elizabeth"

"Beth. She likes to be called Beth" Simon remarked as he put his coat on too and followed the Doctor.

"What are we supposed to do?" Angela barked, Harold nodded in unison with her. It seemed they had finally reached a mutual understanding; they were the third and forth wheel in this team the Doctor and Simon had seemed to form.

As the Doctor reached to open the door, it opened from the other side. Standing on the other side was a young girl with messy blonde hair, dressed in a long woollen dress under a denim jacket, black tights and converse on her feet. Standing beside her was a man wearing a messy blue suit, brown coat and black converse on his feet.

But there was something wrong with him, or right? Both men looked at each other, and what seemed to be an electric shock triggered between them. They glanced at where their two hearts were, the sonic screwdrivers in their pockets, psychic paper in the other. Echoes of the present and future seemed to coalesce together to form sounds, words and images.

Bad wolf...Davros...Ood...River Song...four drumbeats...heartbeat of a Time Lord...

Striking and arching across all of Time and Spaces, past regenerations came upon one another; judging, arguing, laughing, crying, all the emotions of a Time Lord.

Wins and losses; Time War, Donna Noble, Valiant, Torchwood.

Soon, there was only the Past and Present, stood together on the edge of Tomorrow and Yesterday.

Two minds spoke as one, but altogether unique.

**-Doctor Who-**

_Tenth: I remember now..._

_Ninth: Does that mean..?_

_Tenth: Oh yes. What do you think? _

_Ninth: Less hair maybe_

_Tenth: What are the odds? Both of us here, right here right now. But i remember this meeting, this whole encounter._

_Ninth: So you must remember what happened?_

_Tenth: The memories are fuzzy. But I know what is happening. Zygons, we have Zygons on our hands._

_Ninth: They must be brainwashing them all somehow. Except these four, do you remember why?_

_Tenth: No. Is there anything 'we' remember that can help us?_

_Ninth: There is a shield surrounding the town, blocking escape. The Zygons are planning something. Then there is the lighthouse._

_Tenth: The Zygons are using it as a base. I was attacked by a Skarasen. _

_Ninth: Then I guess we're going to the lighthouse._

_-_**Doctor Who-**

In a conversation that explained everything yet nothing at the same time, it took second to the two Time Lords. To everyone else, it was even shorter. Almost at once, they took the room, trying unavoidable to top the other, to be the one in charge. But it was the Tenth to backed down, knowing what was to come, and what he had lost, that perhaps he wasn't the best choice.

Too much loss...

"We need to get to that lighthouse. Coming along?" Ninth said to Tenth, who gave a look of agreement as he leaned against the back wall.

"What about us?" Beth said, drawn to Tenth, who smiled weakly.

"It might be too dangerous. It's probably better if you stay here and wait for us" Tenth replied.

"I'm definitely coming with you. This is my village, and I might be able to help you" Simon said, grabbing his cane and pointing it at Ninth.

"Fine, your with me" he said, a cheeky smile across his face.

"Oh all right then" Tenth said as he stood up straight, grabbing a hold of Beth's hand.

"And us? What do we do while you go out to kill yourselves?" Harold exclaimed, motioning himself and Andrea.

"Keep an eye out, let us know if anything happens. One of you got a phone?" Tenth offered, to which Harold pointed at his landline across from them.

"Good. Any sign of trouble, you two let us know"

At that, the Time Lords and friends entered out to save Littlerock Bay.

Next: Teamwork and Lighthouses.


End file.
